Fox's Angel
by veredgf
Summary: Two years have passed since that day on the bridge and the alien virus attack - Mulder is alive but in a coma. He roams about as a ghost in a limbo world, unable to do much as he watches Scully taking care of his comatose body. Scully herself is on the verge of losing hope until someone from their past intervenes.
1. What the hell?

_Story takes place after season 10 of the X-Files and also refers to my previous X-Files/Saving Hope story "Saving Fox" ._  
 _If you would like to read it I will not reveal too much - I will add info at the end of this chapter for those who don't want to read._  
 _Story also take place after Saving Hope's season 5 finale (BEWARE!)_

* * *

"Hi Dana!"

Dana Scully turned around, her heart responding with a thunderous beat. A blond-haired, blue-eyed man she hadn't seen in two years was currently sitting at the edge of her bed. He wasn't a very close acquaintance of hers either, but he was related to a major event in her life and thus she couldn't forget him. "Dr. Charlie Harris?!" she let out with surprise, "What the hell are you doing here in my bedroom at this God-forsaken hour?!"

Charlie, for his part, gave her a thoughtful gaze, as if he were contemplating his answer to her demanding question. He got up and paced about her bedroom and Scully was beginning to think she'd never receive an answer, then he stopped mid-pace and looked beyond her, obviously avoiding her eyes. "I'm… well… I'm not exactly here and neither are you."

Both her eyebrows rose.

"It's complicated."

Her eyebrows remained in their question-mark position.

"Damn, you run such a tight inquisition. I told Mulder it will not go easy with you—"

"What? When did you get to talk to Mulder? Is he out of his coma?!" She was about to pick up her cell and dial the nursing facility Mulder had been living in for the passing two years when Charlie raised his hand and signed her to stop. "Dr. Harris—"

"Call me Charlie," he insisted.

"Charlie, what the hell is going on here? What are you doing here?!"

Charlie Harris smiled. "I'm here to let you know that you shouldn't give up on hope."

Scully opened her mouth to protest but Charlie Harris turned around and walked out of her room through the wall. She tried to call out to him but no sound came out of her mouth and then she woke up and she realized it was just a dream.

"Dammit!" she cried out with frustration. This dream was just another milestone in the long list of disappointments she'd been forced to deal with ever since the day of the alien invasion. The moment the big bright light shone down on both her and Mulder. One moment she was there, talking to Miller about finding William and the next moment she could hear Mulder's raspy cry as he called out to their son. She didn't understand what had just happened but she didn't have much time to dwell on it as Mulder was calling out for her with a voice barely above a whisper.

"He was here, Scully," he rasped.

She leaned before him as she grabbed his hand and felt for his pulse. "Mulder, don't talk, you need to save your energy," she told him. To her surprise, his previous weak and thready pulse seemed strong and steady now, and yet Mulder appeared to be so unwell and tired. She was confused.

"I'm not going to die," Mulder continued, now only able to whisper.

"Shshsh…" she hushed him, her heart beating fast. She was losing him, yet nothing about his vitals made any sense to her. How could he be slipping away when his pulse and breathing seemed fine?

"William said I'd be OK…" Mulder whispered and then his entire body went limp before her eyes and he collapsed into her arms.

She could still recall her screaming for help at the top of her voice like a mad woman. With so many sick people all around her there were hardly any medical personal available. She was the only person who could help him. In fact, she was the only person who could help everybody but she couldn't care less. She had to save Mulder. She had to.

She put her ear against his mouth and she could feel the warmth of his breath against it. She released a long breath of air herself. He was breathing on his own. Maybe he'd just fainted. Well, she could deal with that. The whole ordeal must have been too much on his body.

She put both her arms on his shoulders and shook his body in an attempt to get him out of the fainted state but she was unsuccessful. Next, she slapped him against his face. He responded to the painful stimuli with a contorted face and his eyes blinked for a second but otherwise he remained passive.

The relief she felt just mere seconds ago when she realized he was breathing was now making space for a new kind of worry. It was appearing more and more that Mulder had slipped into a coma.

She'd been re-living that moment ever since that day. Later on all the tests showed that Mulder had been somehow miraculously cured from the virus. From what little Mulder had said before he withdrew from the world, Scully figured William was somehow involved in his recovery, but none of the test had managed to explain why he became comatose and after a while when it was clear his state was probably permanent, they told her it was time to accept things and move on with her life.

But despite moving through the motions of a so-called life, Scully's feelings and thoughts never went past that day. Her hope was hanging on a very thin thread only barely but it meant she still wasn't able to give up on Mulder. The doctors told her that there were very rare cases where people got out of a coma once a year had passed from the day of onset, and being a doctor herself, she knew the statistics all too well, but Mulder had defied every statistic in the past and she hoped this was just another part of their ever-intricate puzzle. He was cured and she couldn't accept him being cured just so he'd lie on a bed all day long while nurses and orderlies took care of every aspect of his bodily needs.

So she kept searching for a cure and that was why she remained with the X-Files team.

After much deliberation she told Skinner that she would continue to serve as an FBI agent as head of the X-Files but she would need help. She was willing to train additional agents under her but she would only help on cases if time permitted. She wanted to remain close to Mulder as much as possible.

Skinner didn't argue. His only question was who she'd like on her team and she knew right away it had to be Agents Miller and Einstein. Skinner spoke to the two younger agents and while Miller jumped on the opportunity, he was having a much harder time with Einstein. In the end Scully took the hard-headed agent out for a drink and told her how important it is to have a scientist on such a team. Einstein finally relented, but Scully knew she was going to have to work hard to keep that woman on her team. With her it was Mulder's intelligence and charm that first kept her from leaving the X-Files, and of course her ever-present tendency to be overly obedient. Einstein was more of a rebel of sorts but Scully found that refreshing and she felt a lot better once she had secured her presence on the X-Files.

But now, two years had passed and despite all her efforts, Mulder's condition remained the same. She felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into despair. She was losing interest in everything and she was feeling so goddamn lonely. Even Skinner began to tire her with his attempts to make her feel better and she began avoiding his presence as much as she could. Her only confidant was Mulder but now he couldn't retort or comment on anything. She might as well had been talking with a tree.

And now this stupid dream!

It was just past two in the morning and but she felt too rattled to be able to succumb to her weariness. For the life of her she had no idea what could be stirring such a strong reaction within her. It wasn't like she hadn't had some weird crazy dreams before related to Mulder and his condition. The opposite was true; there wasn't a single night that went by without her mind conjuring some means to save Mulder and get him back to her. In her mind's eye she had managed to revive him several times only to find herself waking up into reality just mere seconds before he touched her.

So why should this particular dream unhinge her like this? Giving it some thought she realized it was different from the rest of them; she was not the perpetrator of the events. What's more, there weren't actual events occurring. No. This dream felt more like a message of sorts and she didn't understand why, but something was telling her this message actually held some substance within it.

She lay awake and wondered. She was on the verge of giving up. She knew it and she feared hope, even though a tiny shimmer still existed within her. Could this be an actual sign?

* * *

 _Reference to Saving Hope:_  
 _1\. Charlie Harris is an Orthopedic surgeon who had a car accident, survived a three month coma and when he woke up he had the ability to talk with ghosts. He works at Hope Zion Hospital in Toronto and his love of all times is Alex Reid, General surgeon and mother of his kids (two children)._  
 _2\. In my story "Saving Fox" Mulder becomes very ill while on holiday with Scully in Canada and is taken to Hope Zion. At some point William finds him and with the help of Charlie's abilities he manages to save Mulder but then he later on disappears again, leaving Scully extremely devastated._


	2. The ghost with the most?

_**SPOILER WARNING FOR SAVING HOPE SEASON FIVE FINALE!  
** **Major spoilers for episodes 17 and 18 - don't read if you don't want to be spoiled!**_

* * *

Fox Mulder roamed the halls of the Omega nursing home feeling utterly bored. The in-between existence of his was such a major drawback. He didn't understand why, but in this existence he always wore a G-Man suit including a tie and his FBI badge. Whenever he tried to remove the tie and badge, they miraculously reappeared with a blink of an eye; literally. He was doomed to feeling constantly choked within his clothes for eternity it seemed and he wondered if Skinner was somehow behind this cruel joke of an almost-afterlife.

He hopped by the nurses' station to check the time. It seemed that limbo-attire did not include a watch, maybe because it would be overly depressing to check the time in this condition or maybe because there was no meaning for such a measurement when you were in this parallel plane. He didn't really know since there were no guide books to such an existence. He wished he could go back to his previous state so he could write about his experience but first thing, he had no idea if he'd retain any memories of this period of his life and second, it appeared to be more and more unlikely he'd ever recover from his coma.

At least it seemed so until the day before…

 **[The day before]**

It was late in the evening and he was avoiding his room. It was the time when the nurses were changing his PJs and well… other stuff. They were connecting his feeding tube to his 'dinner', i.e., a bag filled with some form of creamy fluid that was serving as a filler for a pizza. As a final touch a PT would come by to make sure his muscles kept getting some form of stimulation. The worst part about it all was having to stare at his pale, worn out body. The many months of lying in bed doing almost nothing had taken their toll and he realized that if he did wake up some day, he'd need an extremely long rehabilitation.

It was too depressing, so he stayed away. His favorite romping place was the dining hall where residents who were able, sat for dinner. At least he'd get to listen to conversations, even if he wasn't able to participate.

"You know, it's really not polite to eavesdrop on people," a male voice spoke.

The speaker was extremely close to him, but being as nobody had spoken directly to him for the passing two years, Mulder just continued with his regular surveillance.

"I guess manners don't apply to government agents," the voice continued.

Mulder's brows furrowed. This was odd. Was this actually meant for him? When he came to think of it, the voice had a familiar lilt to it.

"You're not imagining things, Agent Mulder, I am, in fact, talking to you."

Mulder turned around abruptly and found himself face to face with a pair of light blue eyes that belonged to a blond-haired man wearing a tux with an undone bow-tie.

He swallowed hard before he blurted, "Ch… Charlie Harris?!"

"The one and only," Charlie smiled.

"B… But… you're supposed to be in…"

"…Canada?" Charlie picked up the conversation. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm supposed to be nowhere, at least my spirit's not supposed to be around the living anymore."

"Spirit?!" Mulder was feeling overwhelmed. He'd not had so much excitement in a long time and he was too shocked to comprehend. "What do you mean - spirit?"

"You know; apparition, ghost, phantom, specter, spook—"

"OK, OK, I get it," Mulder shot at him, "So, you're just like me, then?"

"Not really," Charlie replied, sounding bemused.

"Not really? What's that supposed to mean?!" Mulder felt as if he were about to flip.

"I'm a little worse off than you," Charlie explained.

" _Worse_ than me? How can anybody be worse than me?!" Mulder yelled at the top of his voice, his arms rising with exasperation, then they fell back to his sides as realization dawned on him. "No… you can't be…"

Charlie smacked his lips. "Yup, I can and I am."

Mulder shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, man…. That sucks big time."

"Not really."

Mulder looked up at the blond man. "Huh?"

"When it's your time to go, you'll know. It's hard to explain when you're not there yet and I'm actually here to make sure you won't get there any time soon."

"What's that supposed to mean? Am I going to die?" Mulder shot Charlie a worried look and if he had had a beating heart he was certain it would have been beating like mad at that very moment.

"Dunno." Charlie responded matter-of-factly.

"You know, for a doctor you sure need to work on that bed-side-manner of yours," Mulder told him. "Right now I am not very sure I'd cast a vote of confidence in you."

Once again Charlie Harris offered Mulder a glimpse of his pearly whites. "Why don't we find ourselves a quiet place to sit and I'll explain everything?"

Mulder shot Charlie a sideways glare. "Are you going to deliver some bad news or something? I mean, you doctors, you always take people to quiet rooms for that after all."

"Geez, Mulder. For a spirit you are just too uptight. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, i.e., when I say I want a quiet location, I want it cause it's quiet and nothing more. Why don't you just indulge me. I have a feeling you'd feel a lot better after I'd explained everything."

Mulder pouted, but then he grudgingly relented. "I know a good place, just follow me."

"You know," Charlie said as he walked beside Mulder, "You can just think of the location and you'd get there in a blink of an eye."

"I know that," Mulder shot back, "But how will you know where to go?"

"Oh, I've got my own little tricks," Charlie grinned mischievously.

Mulder felt irritated but he blinked and next he was standing in an empty bedroom that had recently been vacated. A millisecond passed and suddenly Charlie Harris appeared beside him.

The room's furniture was minimal – a cupboard, a bed and a comfortable sofa chair. Mulder quickly moved towards the chair and plopped right into it. He had no idea how he was able to sit and stand on things while he wasn't able to pick things up or move them. There was some form of strange physics to this weird plane and despite having lived as a ghost for two years now, he was still intrigued by the whole concept.

Mulder looked up at Charlie. "I hope you don't mind, but I have developed a serious allergy to hospital beds as of late…"

Charlie nodded his understanding. "Not at all. I quite get where you're coming from." With that, he hopped and sat on the bed.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Mulder prodded once they were both settled.

Charlie let out an awkward chuckle. "Let's see now… how do I begin… OK… So let's start from my situation first, I guess. I am dead; died in a car accident on my way to mine and Alex's honeymoon."

Mulder winced. "Talk about a crappy death… that really takes the cake…"

But Charlie seemed very much at peace with what he'd just told Mulder as if it didn't really matter much anymore. He wasn't angry or upset. He was his usual cynical self, almost as if he wasn't talking about his own life… or death. "Yeah, me and Alex, we just don't do weddings very well, I guess. Alex believed at the time that she was cursed and it was all her fault, but now we both know better—"

"What do you mean 'we'? Can Alex see you in this state? Does she also have your ability?" Mulder was baffled.

"Here's how I see it," Charlie tried to answer Mulder's confusion. "A few years ago Alex was stabbed by a patient and nearly died. During her time between life and death I saw her as a ghost and at some point after she'd recovered, I sort of told her about my 'condition'… and at first she didn't believe but slowly she began remembering moments from the time she was in between and she came to realize I was telling the truth. I don't know how this happened. My experience taught me that hardly anybody remembered that experience but a few do. One particular such person wanted to kill me for not keeping a promise that I made to him as a ghost."

Mulder listened intently as Charlie unfolded his unbelievable tale. "You definitely seem to have come close to death a little too often. If I recall, you were about to have surgery on your brain to remove a tumor when we had last seen you."

"And I almost died during that operation as well… but that's beside the point," Charlie continued. "Or maybe it isn't… cause after I survived the operation and then afterwards was held at gun point and shot and almost lost my arm in the process…"

"Geez!" Mulder exclaimed.

"Well, after all of that Alex decided she was bad for me and we separated… and for a while we weren't together and my ghosts became more twisty and creepy and I thought I was going mad. When things got too much I quit my job, but Alex was extremely concerned for me. She believed me about the ghosts but she'd never really seen it the way I had. At some point a friend overheard her preparing for a speech she was about to give in front of a panel in order to prevent the board from firing me. That was just before I quit. As she was preparing for that speech she mentioned my ability to see ghosts and later on she confided in that friend that she wished she could understand me better. The friend who was in to all sorts of spiritual shit sent her on some sort of guided affected imagery trip so she would be able to see what I saw and I don't know how, but Alex actually did."

Mulder was fascinated. "I've read of such things during my work on the X-Files. The fact that you were basically able to communicate with the dead is given proof that a spirit world exists—"

" _That_ fact is given proof? What exactly would you call your _current_ state of existence then?" Charlie laughed.

"Touche'," Mulder smirked.

Charlie continued with his endless saga. "I have my theories and they mostly revolve around the fact that Alex Reid had been around death before, first her dad, then her brother and she was far more open-minded than a lot of people that I knew. She tried so many experimental methods on me when I was in a coma and she constantly felt my presence during that time. I don't know if it was our bond or if there was more to it, but the fact remains that she had slowly found a way into my shadow world."

"Well, all of this is very nice, but I don't see how this relates to me and to you being here." Mulder was beginning to feel impatient.

"I'm almost there. Bear with me," Charlie demanded.

Mulder's shoulders slackened, but he gestured for Charlie to continue.

"So I died in that car crash, but at the very last moment, just before I left Alex saw me. She saw my spirit. She was able to make the leap herself from her plane to mine. And I knew everything would be alright and I moved on and I'd been lazing on an amazing sandy beach ever since until William came."


	3. Not again

" _William_?" Mulder gawked at Charlie.

"Y'know; teenager, seems to be related to you but has superpowers?" Charlie explained.

" _My_ William? Aka, _MIA_ William?"

"Do you know of any other Williams?" Charlie queried.

"As a matter of fact—"

"Yes. It was _your_ William, the boy who could," Charlie stopped Mulder in the midst.

Mulder wasn't quite sure how to react to what Charlie had just dropped into his lap. After William went AWOL once he'd healed him back in Toronto, Mulder saw how Scully folded into herself and the pain of seeing her suffer so much was unbearable. She was like a wounded animal whose wounds had barely healed and were once again cut open. He hadn't taken thing too well either, but Scully, she was the strong one amongst the two of them and she was forced to carry both his load and hers because he was just so sick at the time. And Scully, that woman was made of stone… a diamond rock. She suffered yet she stood up bravely and pushed on and he had no idea how she managed to do it at all. She went from one tragedy to the next – her father died, then she was abducted, then she got sick with cancer, when she got better she learnt she was barren but soon later she found out about Emily and then she lost her, and then she lost him, her partner and lover and then she gave up on her miracle child for his own good… and then when William found her it was only so he could disappear once again… and Mulder saw how that proverbial knife slashed her wounds open once again and how she first thrashed like a fierce mother of cubs until she realized she could do nothing and she turned off all emotion.

After Toronto they came back and they continued working together. Scully kept the details of the events that befell them in Toronto to herself. She didn't even confide with her Mother and soon after Maggie Scully had died as well, but not before mentioning the name of her grandson to Scully and deepening his partner's wounds even further.

And now here comes William again out of nowhere and Mulder didn't know if he wanted this anymore. It was like dangling a carrot in front of an ass. He might be able to take a tiny bite but it's constantly getting away from him and Mulder wasn't sure he'd be able to settle for a tiny bite anymore and he wasn't sure Scully could, either. What if this will be the final straw and it will crush Scully's will? He was scared and he didn't know exactly why but something in the back of his head was telling him that once Scully gave up, something terrible would happen to her. It was an illogical fear but like all his sixth sense hunches, he knew it wasn't one he could take lightly.

"I thought you'd be jumping up and down with joy and not showing off that lovely brooding side of yours," Charlie uttered after a while.

A weary smile flitted upon Mulder's lips. "Don't take me wrong, I really want to hop into a jig but you see, we've had too many bad experiences in our life, Scully and I, and I guess I have learnt to take everything with a gross lump of salt."

Charlie grinned. "Hey, I'm not offended. I'm just the messenger after all, plus, I'm dead, so I doubt anything worse can happen to me. As for you, well, I guess you'll have to make a decision."

Mulder offered Charlie a wry face. "There's always a decision."

"Do you have anything to lose?" Charlie probed Mulder further.

"That's what I'm contemplating. If you could at least make assurances regarding William…" Mulder noted Charlie shrugging in response. "I thought as much. Look, losing William again was a terrible blow for Scully and I'm worried that should this happen once more, she might not recover."

"What about losing you? Will she be able to cope?"

Mulder gave Charlie a stern look. "Tell me again – _am_ I going to die?"

"I don't know about that, but I do know a lot about hope and I don't think she will be able to keep on hoping for your recovery and once she loses what little hope she still has…"

Mulder nodded understanding and sighed. "OK. I see your point."

Charlie and Mulder spent a somber moment together. Finally it was Charlie who spoke. "So William came to me as I was strolling barefoot along that sandy strip of sunny heaven. It was strange; you see, in my eternity, all I do is just spend time on the beach on my own—"

"And you're not bored?" Mulder interjected.

"No. I dunno why, but I'm not. I have nothing to do and nothing to worry about and I know that at some point Alex will join me and I'm content. If you ask me, heaven is really not so much a place as much as it is a feeling, and I was feeling heavenly just about everything and it didn't really matter that I wasn't able to step out of this tux, or if there wasn't any soul to share my happiness with, it was just great the way it was."

"So did this change when William came by?"

"Not really. It was just… different."

"In what way?" Mulder prodded.

"He suddenly joined me on my stroll…"

 **[On the beach in Heaven]**

"Hi Charlie."

Charlie Harris glanced sideways and paused his pacing. "William?"

William smiled. "Yeah, Charlie. It's me."

Charlie surveyed the young boy. "You've grown taller since I'd last seen you."

The brown-haired blue-eyed teen smiled again. "It's been two years since we last met."

For the first time since Charlie had left the world of the living a flitting sight of worry touched his consciousness. "Why are you here, William? Are you—"

"No, Charlie, I'm not dead," the boy signaled Charlie to relax. "But I could really use your help."

" _My_ help?" Charlie laughed. "If you haven't noticed, I'm kinda beyond help."

"I will give you the ability to help." William explained.

"You will give me… what _are_ you? God?" Charlie was bewildered.

"I have… abilities." William tried to find a way to a reasonable explanation.

Charlie stopped in his place and gave William a stern look over. "Ok, let's just say for the heck of it that you have abilities; why would you need _me_ to help you? You're an all-powered being after all and I'm just… dead weight. Why do you need me?"

"Because I may be 'super-powered' when compared to an ordinary human being, but I'm considered quite ordinary as far as my enemies are concerned, at least for now."

Charlie's eyes squinted and his lips pursed as he tried to get his mind around what William had just told him. "I'm… not quite sure I'd like to know more about all this super stuff of yours… sounds like a bit over my normal human brain's capacity to comprehend…"

"So is that a yes?" The overly-mature teenager prompted.

"Although I'm quite certain that I'm sticking my nose into something I will surely regret, since I am not the kind of person who says no when somebody needs help, I guess my response is affirmative; yes, I will help you."

"Thank you, Charlie," the boy sounded a little too relieved for Charlie's liking, but hey, he was dead, so how much worse could it get?

"So what exactly are you going to enable me to do? Fly? See through walls? Weave spider-webs?" Charlie bombarded William as excitement washed through his 'body'.

The young boy smiled. "Maybe not as exciting as you'd like it to be, but I need you to come back as a ghost."

Charlie's excitement deflated like a withered birthday balloon. "That's all? You come all this way and that's all you want me to do?"

"Oh, there's gonna be more, but for starters, that's the best way you can help me."

"Fine," Charlie let out dolefully.

"I want you to visit my father and to tell him that help is on the way and the next thing you'll need to do is find a way to reach my mother. I will enable you to do that."

"Why will it be easier with your dad than with your mom?" Charlie was puzzled.

"For starters, he is more prone to accept the supernatural than she is, but mostly because dad is in a coma while mom isn't."

Charlie nodded. He didn't need any further information. "Fine, you can send me on my way. Guess from now on I'll be known as the ghostly Littlest Hobo."

"Bye Charlie and thanks."

 **[The Omega Nursing Facility, the day before the present]**

"So now that you're here and you've delivered your message to me, what's next?" Mulder wondered aloud.

"I've got to go and make sure your woman is part of this deal." Charlie told him.

"And how _exactly_ are you going to do that. I mean, I don't want to pee on that parade of yours but you're not exactly flesh and blood and despite her being uberly talented, I'm quite sure Scully hasn't yet mastered the ability of ghost whispering."

"Hmm… dunno, maybe she has… or maybe William has made me a whisperer for the living?" Charlie winked at Mulder.

"What d'ya mean?" Mulder shot him a dubious glare.

"I mean, there's only one way to find out."

And before Mulder was able to open his mouth in protest, Charlie was gone.


	4. Good Feelings?

**[The Omega Nursing Facility, the Present]**

"I'm baaaaack," Charlie Harris sing-sang.

Mulder turned around to face the returning spirit. "So? How was it? How did she react? Is she on board? How will she make me get out of this place?"

Charlie put his palm up and signed Mulder to stop. "Easy, man. It's going to take time to get this thing on the move."

Mulder was confused. "What do you mean? You _did_ see her… did _she_ see _you_?"

"Err… sorta," Charlie mumbled.

"Sorta?!" Mulder was incredulous. "What do you mean by sorta? Did you or didn't you talk with her?!"

Charlie shrugged. "Look, it's complicated. I couldn't just pop out of thin air like Casper. I remember your partner; she's not exactly easy with this sort of stuff."

Mulder felt a serious tantrum on the up-rise. "Look now, yes, she can be skeptical at times—"

"That's an understatement if I'd ever heard one," Charlie snorted.

Mulder offered Charlie a sardonic smile. "I know her, and even though she does insist on scientific proof most of the times, she'd seen too much 'stuff' to be able to deny unusual phenomena."

"So you think I should have just used my ghostly charm on her?" Charlie wondered aloud.

"You mean you didn't?" Mulder's face twisted into a quirky question mark.

"Look, I did talk to her—"

"But? I know there's a 'but' here."

"But she wasn't… really… awake at the time…" Charlie added awkwardly.

Mulder took a step back and stared at the blond man as if it were the first time he'd ever seen him. "You mean you came to her… in a dream?"

Charlie nodded a mute confirmation.

Mulder exploded, his arms flailing with exasperation as he paced the room like a cat on the fritz. "That's just peachy! Just perfect! I mean, finally there's some hope that I'd get out of this coma and lo and behold, you try to convince my extremely skeptical partner to come and save me in a dream!"

"But you just said-" Charlie tried his best to find the words amidst Mulder's explosive tirade.

"I know what I said!" Mulder blew over. "It's one thing if you appear as a ghost to her while she's awake. I mean, that will be kind of hard to deny, but if you are just a dream…"

"Look," Charlie said quietly, his tone a tad peeved now. "I did what I believed was right and I happen to have a good feeling about it."

"I don't _do_ 'good feelings'!" Mulder shot back.

"Well, I think I will let you process whatever feelings you _do_ have for now." Charlie retorted, his tone grim.

"Fine. Maybe it's better that you go. I have no idea _what_ William was thinking when he sent you, but I think he obviously hadn't a clue."

"If that's how you want it, fine with me," Charlie said and vanished into nothing.

Mulder was left to tend to his anger, but it was incredibly hard when one couldn't kick or punch anything physical. Even stomping at the ground had no effect, as it only made him levitate. The only positive aspect, if one could call it that, was that he couldn't do himself any more harm. Of course, being in a coma pretty much put the lid to just about anything, except for death.

With no remaining options, Mulder let out a miserable sigh. He didn't want to feel negative about having some form of hope, but he couldn't help being annoyed at his absentee son, who'd managed to somehow be present each time calamity came. He knew it wasn't really William's fault, but there wasn't truly anybody else tangible enough to lay the blame on, and so he just dropped it at William's lap, albeit it only being a proverbial one.

If only Scully and him had had a normal life; then William would have still been around and Mulder would have been angry about him totaling his car, or coming home late at night from some wild party. Then again, maybe if things were normal, Scully would have never been assigned to the X-Files in the first place.

The hours passed as he roamed the silent halls of the nursing home, trying to come to terms with how he felt about what Charlie had said and done, trying to figure out when he had become this bitter person, unable to see beyond his personal needs, or if he ever was a different person before. He remembered the olden days, when he still knew nothing about just everything, and how he thought he already knew so much. How naïve that younger man was and how far from naïve he'd become. He'd lost faith and gained it several times through all those years. Doors closed, others opened and then closed again, and this time he believed he'd reached a dead end.

It didn't happen right away, but when a year had passed he'd come to believe this was it for him and he gradually settled for just seeing Scully once a day, but never really able to talk to her, touch her, or feel her touch. He was the only ghost to roam the Omega Facility's corridors and he didn't understand why. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that he was the youngest resident of this home and the only one in a coma, but he'd hoped to at least see the ghosts of those who had just died, but they all probably had no reason for staying behind. And so he remained alone with his thoughts and feelings, yet forced to watch every day as Scully came by to visit him and not be able to do a thing.

During the early stages of his coma she'd be hovering about him for hours with no end. She'd be going through a rainbow of emotions, all in a single day; Sad, mad, hopeful, miserable, pained, defeated, excited (about a possible treatment or drug), hopeless and sad again. She'd talk to him for hours, begging him to wake up, promising him the Earth and the moon and the stars, and basketball tournaments, cheese steaks, silly old movies to watch together and at some crazy point of her misery she even offered to take him to a brothel if he woke up and to dress up in leather, with high boots and a whip. He wished he could wake up there and then and demand she'd keep her end of the bargain at that very moment, but alas… he remained a sack of turnips.

And gradually she stayed less and less by his side. She came daily, but if at first she was there all day, slowly she came only in the evenings. Once she'd gone back to the FBI, she only visited him for an hour just before she went about her work day. She still talked to him, but now there were longer periods of silence where she just stared at him, or her hands, or looked at his chart. What kept him going was one moment that he waited for every day. Just before she would leave his room she'd get up and kiss him on his lips. That was the closest he got to feeling her. It never resembled anything like real touch but there was always a slight surge of energy which he could feel and he yearned for that tiny fleck of energy every single day.

He knew she was having thoughts of letting him go and he couldn't blame her. Maybe it would be better for the both of them. Maybe she should forget about him. Perhaps then he would be able to leave and find his peace and quiet. Their current existence was worse than hell. Seeing Scully's dim eyes and beaten expression as she walked daily into his room only to find him in the same condition he'd been in for the passing two years was like a knife being twisted over and over again through his heart.

As she confided in him about her feelings of treachery, as she called them, he wished he could tell her it was OK to let go, but of course, he couldn't, and somehow she clung to him, and he didn't know how she was able to continue with this ordeal without losing herself to some form of depression or madness.

"Mulder… it's me."

"Scully?" He could hear her talking to him even though he wasn't near her which usually meant she was probably sitting at his bedside. The only issue he had was that he was certain it was too early for her daily visit.

He popped by the nursing station and gave a quick look at the clock on the wall. He was right. It was five AM. Why would Scully ditch her routine all of a sudden? She was such a stickler for routine, it made him worry.

The one upside of a ghostly living was being able to get to wherever one wanted in a literal blink of an eye and thus he was now back in his room, looking at his only true love as she huddled beside his scrawny, wasted body.

He shivered as he felt a surge of energy as Scully made contact with his skin. He was both elated and abhorred at the same time. Elated that Scully was touching him and in a manner she hadn't done for a very long time, and abhorred about the fact that his body was such a shadow of its former self.

But why the change all of a sudden?

"Mulder… something… very strange happened to me. I had this dream… but it was different. I don't know exactly why I know it's different, and this is very not like me, but it reminded me of the dream I had back when everybody had thought you'd perished in the desert. You spoke to me in a dream back then and it was then that I knew you were alive and that you were soon to come back to me. I told your mother back then about my strong feelings and I'm having these same strong feelings now. I know it defies logic but I can't help it. I have a good feeling about this."

 _A good feeling._ Those were Charlie Harris' words to him just a few hours ago. The blond son of a gun was right!


	5. In Retrospect

**[The Omega Nursing Facility]**

Scully stared at Mulder's form as she got up from his hospital bed. He seemed so peaceful as he lay there. During some of her darker moments she had these thoughts about Mulder wanting to be in this state. She'd wondered if maybe it had all gotten a little too much for him and he just wanted a way out. He'd somehow manage to keep his psyche afloat all those years, but she knew he was in a constant state of some form of insanity. She could hear him talking to phantoms. She stood behind an almost closed door and peered through the crack only to find him giving speeches, hand gestures and all, to some void in front of him. They never really spoke about it and she wasn't quite sure if he knew that she knew, not to mention the fact that she wasn't quite sure he knew that he was speaking to non-existent people.

It was just something she chose not to touch and for many years she hoped that he'd somehow get over this phase but not only did he not recover, at some point it just got worse. So much so that when he began making various life-changing decisions that affected the both of them based on the recommendations of his phantoms, she finally approached him on the subject. Of course he blatantly denied it and suddenly there was this growing rift between them. He insisted that they leave there current life and go out on some crazy hunt for some unknown bounty hunter in the middle of the Sahara desert. He told her his informant, Mr. X, said this would be the answer to all his questions. Of course, she refused, and he began treating her as if she were the enemy.

She knew it was his madness talking but she couldn't find any way around it. She begged him to see somebody. She brought him various prescriptions for medications that could mitigate his symptoms but he just became even more paranoid and cagey around her. It became impossible for her to be around him. He'd treat her as if she was there to spy on him and he'd barricade his office and prevent her from even seeing his face.

At some point she decided to bring in an expert psychiatrist to their home so she could assess his condition and if he needed hospitalization. To her surprise, he had no problem meeting the professional and when she had left him, the doctor told Scully that he may not be mentally well, but he is no danger to himself and that his real issues are actually related to Scully herself.

The psychiatrist concluded her diagnosis with the recommendation that Scully should stay as far away from Mulder as possible and that that would be for his own good. She believed that Scully's presence was a trigger for his condition; probably a guilt-related trigger and she told Scully quite blatantly that she should leave him if she wanted to save him.

Scully reached down into her heart as she remembered the crushing feeling she had as she stared blankly at the psychiatrist's back as she strode out of what used to be their home.

Once the door had shut, Scully felt herself wandering their living room aimlessly until she finally collapsed in its center and found herself sobbing like a child who'd lost his parents. She couldn't recall feeling so lost and alone ever. Her world was basically divided to the time before Mulder came into her life and after that. She never knew she could feel like this for one single person before that, and once she had found him, she couldn't understand how she was able to live without his presence in her life. No logic helped her feelings. She knew he wasn't dying and he'd still be around, but the thought of having to let him go, even if it were for his own good, made her crumple into a pile of nothing.

After she'd let out her soul, she finally felt strong enough to collect herself. She got up and packed a suitcase. She couldn't pack her entire life into it and she wasn't sure she'd want to pack it anyway. It contained too much of Mulder in it for her to bear, so she just took the bare necessities and then she went by Mulder's barricaded den and told him she was leaving. She didn't tell him why or if she'd ever be back and she didn't receive any response from him. She swallowed the tears that welled up in her throat as she stepped out of what would now be only his house from now on, and strode off.

After that she had terrible Mulder-withdrawal symptoms for months. She checked her phone almost every few minutes to see if he'd called her. She'd check if he'd sent her emails and she drove often by his home in hope of catching a glimpse of him. She'd keep tabs on him through various errand boys who served their home. She wanted to make sure he was alright and from what little they told her, she knew he was alive and well and managing without her.

Slowly she moved from the worried and addicted phase of her mourning period to the hurt and abandoned phase of it. It was hard for her to accept that probably that psychiatrist was right and what Mulder truly needed was time away from her so he could get better. The realization that she was the source of his illness made her feel sick and depressed.

She sought solace in therapy which didn't help at first, but gradually she started moving on to the next level. She finally accepted that it wasn't Mulder's fault, nor was it hers. It was just something that happened to them and that she couldn't control everything in her life or his. She finally felt OK with herself and with her current life and she was also making progress at work.

And then one day he called her.

When she saw his name on her phone's display, her heart skipped a beat and then as adrenaline kicked in, it moved into staccato. She swallowed hard as she stared at her phone, not sure if answering would be the right course of action. Finally she clicked the receive button and then she slowly put the cell's speaker against her ear.

"H… hello?" her voice was a tremor.

"You're not seeing ghosts Scully. It's me," Mulder told her, in his usual monotonous tone, which belied the actual context of his words.

She missed his deadpan attitude. She didn't want to get all emotional, but she couldn't get over her feelings. She knew that if she spoke, he'd hear the sob in her tone and she didn't want this. She'd imagined this moment so many times. She'd thought of her reaction. How she'd be perfectly calm and calculated and how she won't let him just sneak back into her heart once more, so she won't feel so bad about not being with him. She would keep telling herself this was the best she could do for him. She'd be strong for Mulder. She could do it. She so wanted to be able to do it, but now she knew she couldn't.

"Scully?" Mulder sounded confused.

"I… I'm here," she managed to blurt, but her voice was so shaken, she felt so ashamed of her inability to stop her trembling.

"Scully… I'm sorry."

He sounded so sad all of a sudden and his tone woke up her maternal nature and it took control and moved her from her moment of shock. "No, Mulder. _I'm_ sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. As is always, I was a mess and you did everything in your power to save me. I owe you everything and you own me nothing."

Scully had feelings of déjà vu as she remembered a similar conversation from years back. "I… missed you," she told him softly.

There was a quiet pause on the other end of the line. Finally he spoke. "Please come back."

Her heart screamed at her to say YES, but her ever-present logic slapped her in the face. "Mulder…"

"I know…" he said, his voice the epitome of sadness mixed with understanding.

"I love you so much, Mulder. I would give everything for this to work, but I'm so scared things will go bad for you again. It hasn't even been a year since I left. There's a good chance that if we got back you might relapse and it might be worse this time."

Silence was all she heard from the other end of the line.

"Let's give it some more time," she pleaded for his understanding.

"Somehow I doubt any amount of time will do here. Sometimes you just have to put your trust in me, Scully."

She winced at the sound of his bitter accusation. "Maybe we need to just take it slowly."

"OK. What about dinner at my place this evening?" he offered, his voice a little bit more lively than its usual temperament.

 _Not exactly taking it slow_ , she thought. "Rain check for tonight, about to go into surgery, but it's a deal for tomorrow night."

She could still recall the tone of his voice as he agreed to her suggestion. He sounded both relieved and hopeful and she knew she couldn't ask for more.

That was more than four years ago. They met for many dinners, mostly at what used to be their home and then Mulder began nagging her to move back in with him and she was having her doubts and he became snarky towards her after a while and the number of dinner dates diminished until there were none.

When Skinner called them about Tad O'Malley that day, they were at this all-time low. His comments to her on that day stung, yet she couldn't really not understand him. So she just bit her tongue and let him have his way. And then they were pulled back into the whole X-Files conspiracy vortex and then that final alien virus blow and here she was now, staring at his pale shrunken body as it lay there, wasting away on a hospital bed and she wondered if things would have been different had she gone back to living with him, and that maybe Mulder didn't have any will to get out of his coma state when he knew he would continue his life alone in some sense.

"I'm so sorry," she told him. "I promise things will be different once you get back to me. I understand now that I was wrong."

His peaceful face gave no reaction to her words and the tears just began rolling down her cheeks. She hadn't cried like this for months. The whole ordeal with Charlie's dream just brought everything back to her and emotionally she felt as raw as the day Mulder fell into his coma.

She lowered herself towards his body until her lips aligned with his and then she pushed herself lower until they touched. She kissed him and wished he could respond in kind. Then she got up and left.


	6. Man on a Mission

As Scully strode out of Mulder's room, Charlie, who'd been standing out in the corridor just waiting for his opportunity, quickly followed behind her.

All of a sudden, Scully halted her pace and turned around. Their eyes met and Scully's widened, almost bursting at their seams. Her lips parted, a faint gasp made its way through them.

Charlie had to react immediately for Scully's sake. "Don't say a word!" he shot out at her.

Scully in return offered him a face filled with a mixture of confusion and irritability.

"Do as I say; take out your phone and pretend as if you are having a conversation." If only somebody had told him to do this back in the day. It would have saved him so much grief.

Scully still seemed unsure and Charlie was losing his patience. "Just do it!" he ordered and then he added "Please."

Finally Scully swung into action. She opened her purse and after a quick rummage, she retrieved a smartphone out of it.

Happy about the progress of things, he prodded Scully with a gesture to put the phone against her ear.

Her face was very clearly filled with disapproval, but grudgingly, she complied.

"Thank you," Charlie said, unable to hide his caustic tone.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?!" Scully finally spoke.

"I'm sorry about this entire charade, but unless you want to end up in a mental hospital, this is the only way you can talk to me out in public." Charlie explained.

Scully snorted. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"Oh, I wish it were," Charlie muttered.

"Look, I do have a soft spot for you and all, but please don't push it. My patience these days is just about non-existent, so why don't you just cut to the chase."

As she finished, her blue eyes seemed to blaze, which made Charlie flinch somewhat. He drew in a deep breath. "Ok, this is not going to go down easy, so just let me say my thing, before you go berserk."

Scully just kept her steady gaze on him and Charlie swallowed hard. "So, the reason I needed you to pretend that you are talking on the phone is that I am actually a ghost. In fact, it would help if you'd not stare at me like this because nobody else can see me and you are looking rather weird to the people who are passing you by."

"You mean, passing _us_ , by, right?" Scully tried to correct him, still obviously not grasping the bizarre reality.

"No. I meant you. All they can see is you. As far as the rest of the people here are concerned, I do not exist."

The redheaded woman let out a snort. "You're kidding me, right?"

Charlie didn't know how to respond. When this had happened to him, he went through a number of phases until he accepted his ability to talk to ghosts. He mostly believed he was crazy. He didn't question the ghosts being ghosts because he'd assumed this was a problem in his head. Contrary to his experience, Scully assumed the problem didn't lie within her. Her logic told her that since she'd never before spoken to ghosts this meant that Charlie was essentially a crazy person telling her a cockamamie story.

The bottom line of all of this was that he was always the crazy one. He laughed inwardly. It was kind of ironic when presented like this.

His first priority was to convince her he was a ghost.

With that in mind, Charlie began to walk towards the nearest wall. He didn't stop as Scully called out to him.

"Hey!" Scully cried out.

A nurse that passed by stopped at her tracks and asked Scully what her problem was. Scully in return told her it was just somebody on the phone she was talking to.

Meanwhile, Charlie kept on walking until he passed through the nearby wall. Then he turned around and popped right back into the corridor through the very same wall. By then, the nurse who'd stopped by Scully had moved on, and Scully was left with a slack jaw.

"Proof enough?" He asked, feeling quite content. He knew he shouldn't brag, but somehow he couldn't help it. It felt good.

Scully's jaw loosened. "This only proves one thing to me. It proves that I should probably take a break. It proves that I've lost it. In fact, I don't know why I'm still talking to you, since you are just a figment of my imagination."

Charlie shook his head. He should have expected just as much from this woman. If only he had something more to offer her as proof. "I know it seems far out. I've been there. I've had my head checked several times. I even had a brain tumor removed. Please believe: you are _not_ crazy. I am really a ghost and I have been sent here to help you save your partner."

Scully gave him an incredulous glare. "Seriously? And to think Mulder and I broke off after I couldn't find a way to stop him from making decisions based on what his imaginary friends told him to do. Way to go Dana Scully. You are now a fully-fledged member of the cuckoo's nest. Look at me, having an entire conversation with myself _and_ with an imaginary person."

Charlie gazed upwards. "William… I could sure use some help right now…" he pleaded with his sender. He had no idea why the boy had sent him if he couldn't actually get these two people to believe he could help, not to mention getting this woman to believe in his existence.

"What did you just say?" Scully barged in in the middle of his thoughts.

Charlie sighed. "He told me you were going to be a problem."

" _Who_ told you?"

"William," Charlie said softly.

"Who?"

"Your son."

He watched as a rainbow of emotions erupted on the older woman's face; a mixture of weariness and excitement; hope and despair; awe and worry.

"No!" she finally blurted out. "I'm imagining this. It's my desperation getting the better of me. Taking over my mind. This is just not happening. I refuse to accept this."

"Why?" Charlie asked her, his voice a plea, willing her to trust him.

"It's just too much. Every time I dare hope, I am thrown back into this pit of despair. I just… I can't… You are _not_ real. _This_ is not real."

As the last words left her mouth, Scully began walking away towards the hospital's exit. Charlie pursued her. "I know your gut is telling you this is true."

Scully hurried her pace in response. Charlie let her leave. It wasn't a great success but he believed he'd managed to plant that tiny seed into the woman's heart. Now he needed some fertilizer to make sure it flourished.

He looked up again as he spoke. "William, it would be mighty nice of you to throw me some sort of bone for your parents to chew. I'm kind of tired of them chewing me—"

Before he could continue, Charlie felt himself being pulled away and a millisecond later he was back on the beautiful sandy beach.

"So does this mean I'm done with messenger duties?" he wondered aloud.

"Quite the contrary."

Charlie turned around abruptly at the sound of the familiar voice. William stood there, his hands deep in his pants' pockets. He appeared like a regular teenager. It was only the expression on his face that gave him away. This was one of the most serious boys he'd ever met. In fact, he seemed far more serious than most of the adults he knew. One could tell he was a true born leader and that he had this huge weight resting upon his shoulders.

"So if I'm not done, why did you bring me back? You couldn't just send me a message via pigeon or some form of telepathy? Even more so, couldn't you just pass it on yourself?"

The boy gave him a 'what do you think' look and Charlie answered his own question. "It's too dangerous yadda, yadda, yadda…"

"Yes—" William tried to answer.

"How exactly did you get yourself to this place?" Charlie cut through the boy's attempted explanation.

"You are now an energy form, Charlie. The essence of your mind exists on this plane and I can project the essence of my mind wherever I want."

Charlie was intrigued. "So basically ghosts are an energy form of our consciousness?"

"It's a little bit more complicated than this—" William began elaborating.

"Spare me the whole gory truth. I'll settle for the 'Understanding Ghosts for Dummies' version, thank you."

"No problem," William agreed, sounding just for a wee moment like the teenager he was.

"So now you're going to give me those super powers? Am I finally going to be able to fly like a speeding bullet?"

William smiled, which seemed very out of place to Charlie. He'd gotten used to seeing only the boy's somber expression until then.

"What?" Charlie asked.

"You're a ghost. You can essentially do whatever you desire." The boy told him.

Charlie gave him a sideways look. "Err… my previous ghostly experience begs to differ."

"That doesn't count."

"How come?"

"Back then you weren't dead. You were bound by your physical presence to a single location."

Charlie wasn't satisfied with the boy's explanation. "I met ghosts who went beyond that."

"A few extremely powerful consciousnesses are able to go beyond those boundaries; usually personas with a lot of anger. They have more energy and thus can surpass the usual barriers."

Charlie contemplated William's words and wondered how he felt about it. On the one hand realizing he was a rather ordinary consciousness felt kind of like a letdown, but on the other hand, realizing that usually problematic souls were those with the extreme abilities made him feel somewhat better.

"You are _no_ ordinary soul, Charlie," William told him.

"Whatever," Charlie told the boy. "Why don't you just tell me what you want me to do."

"Ok then." The boy said. "You have to tell my mother she has to get her hands on a drug created by the consortium with the assistance of the aliens. It is the means to save my father."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

"Remember," the boy said, as he stared deep into Charlie's eyes, "A drug from the consortium."

And the beach was gone.


End file.
